


The Bad Touch

by Rory



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Body Pillow, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rory/pseuds/Rory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys come home late from work, he's alone and apparently a bit frustated too. What's better for relieving the stress than his hero?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bad Touch

**Author's Note:**

> The title come from this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xat1GVnl8-k  
> It started as a Rhys/Jackimakura and became a "fuckJacksvoice" weirs thing.

Rhys sighed, watching the clock on the wall of his cubicle. Only one more hour of work until the end of the day and, luckily, the week. After rubbing his eyes, Rhys resumed his work.

Usually Rhys loved to work on codes, he had been coding stuff since he was a kid, but some days he only had to inspect someone else’s code (and correct stupid errors) and he couldn’t help being bored.  
After half an hour, he noticed he only had a few pages left. Thanks heaven. Probably he had to stay a bit later, but he could finish that boring work and not having to deal with it one more day.

  
What looked like a half an hour work turned on to be more a two-hours work, and Rhys rightly blamed it all on the other coding division, given how idiotic were all the errors he found, and due to his tiredness he probably had to work the next monday as well on that shit to be sure he didn’t overlook anything. Great.

  
Long story short, when he decided that his work was done, Rhys was the only one left in the office. Turning on the flashligh built in his mechanical arm, Rhys quickly waked through the dark offices to the nearest Fast Travel station.  
He felt like the main character of that horror videogame he had played a while ago with Vaughn, where you were stuck in your office during the night and horror things happened. Rhys shivered and quickened his pace.  
Vaughn would surely be mad him for not calling to ward him he’d be late.

Rhys was about to call his best friend when he realized tha Vaughn wasn’t even at home. He was out of town the entire weekend for a some kind of meeting of the accounting department, and Rhys had the apartment nice and empty all for himself.

Nice and empty and _cold_ , sice he was fairly sure he didn’t turn on the heat before taking off that morning, nor he did put on the timer. Also, thre would’ve been no food ready, and Rhys hadn’t eat since lunch. Oh crap.  
Finally he found the Fast Travel station, whice powered on with a disgruntled noise. Even the pre-registered voice of the station sounded somehow annoyed with Rhys for the late hour.  
  
After nearly tripping on the dark stairs despite his flashlight Rhys reached safely the apartment he shared with his friend. He fumbled a while with the keys, trying to find the right one with only one hand, and as soon as he entered in the room he was greated with a comfy warmth. As he turned on the light, Rhys noticed a post-it on the wall in front of him “I made some pasta, it’s in the microwave. I also set up the timer so the house won’t be cold tonight. You forgot it, you idiot. PS: Love ya bro”

Oh Vaughn, bless his soul.  
  
The pasta had that typical reheated taste, but it was still really good, Vaughn was a way better cook than he was. Glancing at the digital clock on the microwave, Rhys noticed that it was nearly midnight but now that he was full and warm, he wasn’t that tired anymore, not enought to sleep, anyway.  
Lazily Rhys turned on the television, lowering the volume due to the late hour, and he skipped channels only to find a documentary about Handsome Jack. Probably it wouldn’t have said anything Rhys didn’t already knew, but Jack was still his idol, and also he had the next day off, so why not?

  
The documentary was really nice, the narrator had a good and pleasant voice, though as Rhys expected it gave him no additional infos on Helio’s hero. It was only during the records of Handsome Jack’s speeches that Rhys realized he was slowly stroking himself. Gosh, it already had become an inconscious reaction to Jack’s voice? He was really fucked up now.  
  
Rhys picked up a random cushion from the couch, hugging it with both hands and kept watching, but soon enough his tights were rubbing each other, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, mind lost in the marvel of Jack’s voice. Rhys wasn’t even paying attention to the actual words, Jack’s voice alone was resounding in his head.  
  
Soon, too soon, the speech ended with the sound of a shot, at which Rhys jumped in surprise. Now the credits were rolling on the screen, and Rhys looked a bit embarassed at the obvious boner in his pajama pants. Good thing he was alone.  
  
He covered his red cheeks with his flesh palm, and idea forming in his mind but too embarassing to even think about it. But after a moment, Rhys stood up, turned off the tv and headed for his room. He was home alone for fuck’s sake, a thing that happened only once in a blue moon, and he had no intention to waste it.

  
Rhys’ room was still dark, the only light coming from a solitary streetlamp out of the window, but even without light Rhys was quickly able to find what he was looking for; at the bottom of his wardrobe, hidden under a pile of various clothes he didn’t wear that often, laid a Jack-themed body pillow.  
  
Rhys had bought it on a whim a few months before, but when it arrived he had felt so embarassed he couldn’t find the courage to show it to Vaughn and Yvette, and since that day the pillow had remained hidden in his wardrobe.  
It was a really good product, the colours were nice and the fabric felt truly soft under Rhys hand. Rhys could’ve sworn, his face was surely as red as a tomato when he placed the huge pillow on his bed, the clothed version facing the bed, so he could see the undressed version.  
  
Before laying on the bed himself, Rhys turned on his MP3 player, plugged it to his speakers. He had the perfect audio file to accompany him. It was simply one of the countless Jack’s speeches, but this one was particular, because Handsome Jack’s voice was much softer and deeper than usual, and while the words were more or less the same as other speeches, Rhys loved the voice tone.  
He selected the audio file and pressed play. Handsome Jack’s voice soon filled the room, not loud enough to be heard by the neighbours, but enought to slip through Rhys’ hears and into his mind.  
Rhys took off his shirt, then climbed on his bed, and onto the pillow, Jack’s usual smirk printed on the fabric challenging him.  
  
_Go ahead_ , he was saying.

_I know you want me, do it for me, baby._

  
And even if the words coming from the speakers didn’t say that, they did it in Rhys head.

  
_Do it._

  
And Jack’s words were like syrup, like honey, they wrapped on Rhys mind, poisoning it with excitement.  
Hands stuck at his sides, Rhys begun to roll his hips back and forth on the pillow, his clothed erection brushing against the abdomen section of the print.  
  
Eyes closed, Rhys leaned forward, gripping the sheets with his robotic hand. His mind was wandering, lost into Jack’s voice. Jack was under him, telling Rhys he was a good boy, his big hands brushing at his sides. Without realizing it, Rhys’ flesh hand started to brush up and down, from his thigh to his chest, bringing down the waistband with it.

  
_Come on sweetheart, let me see the good stuff._

  
Still rocking his hips on the pillow, Rhys’ left hand lowered his pants’s waistband until it was hanging around his thighs, Rhys’ dick free of restraints dripping precum on the printed Jack’s stomach.  
Rhys’ hand collected some only to bring it at his mouth. Rhys licked his fingers, savouring the flavour, imagining it to be Jack’s.  
All wet and slick, those fingers traveled down to hang on Rhys’ ass.

  
_Open up for me baby._

  
Rhys was tense before doing things like that, usually, but not that night. That night he was so high on Jack’s voice he didn’t really care what he was doing.  
He slowly inserted his middle finger inside him, hips slowing slightly to allow the finger to slip in with ease.

  
_Good baby, good. Now another one, for me._

  
As soon as the discomfort faded away, Rhys inserted another finger inside, scissoring slightly. His breath was coming out faster and faster, as his hips were bucking onto the pillow and his fingers were pumping inside him.  
Rhys’ breath hitched as his fingers brushed against his prostate, cheeks flushed red, cock dripping, and Jack’s voice still filling his mind, lulling it with sweetness and alluring words.

  
Rhys repeated the motion, brushing again on that sweet spot, his own sounds becoming more vocal. He threw his head back, the sound of Jack’s name escaping his lips, nearly covering the voice from the speakers.  
  
More moans escaped those lips and his pace became more erratic as he was approaching his climax. The hand on the sheets gripped them tighter, Rhys whole body lowering on the pillow, his head now so near to Jack’s smirk.  
  
Probably due to a trick of Rhys mine, but he really felt like Jack’s words sounded louder and clearer, coaxing him into their embrace and making Rhys’ whole body shake.

  
_Come for me baby, come for me. ou deserve it, you’re so good. Come for me._

  
Like it was under Jack’s command, Rhys body stilled, cumming on the pillow, Jack’s name loud on Rhys’ lips.  
Rhys was panting heavily, his body so spent, and he collapsed on the side, still shaking and numb in the afterglow.  
After a few seconds, even the voice from the speakers came to a stop, leaving the room silent if it wasn’t for Rhys breathing.  
  
Slowly his breathing returned normal, but his heart was still pounding.  
What has he just done?  
  
Embarassment started to overcome him, and he was glad nobody could actually see him, beside his Jack’s posters hung on the walls.  
Jack’s voice wasn’t talking to him anymore, his mind felt so empty now without all that molasses. And being honest with himself, Rhys already missed it.  
  
Before collapsing definitively on the bed, Rhys took the pillow out the dirty pillowcase and tossed the first on the ground and the latest on the corner of the room. He would’ve dealt with it in the morning, now he was too tired to do anything.  
  
Hugging his pillow, Rhys drifted into sleep under the vigilant eyes of his posters, vaguely hoping Jack’s voice would visit him in his dreams.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Oh god. I hope my english was good enough, I still have some problems with verbs' tenses.


End file.
